Chapter 976 – The Weight of Touch
The Hollow was quiet that afternoon — a rare calm that had settled like dust after a storm. The courtyards echoed only with the whisper of wind brushing across stone and the far-off sound of hammers from the forges. Eris sat beneath one of the silverleaf trees near the western garden, her fingers tracing the texture of the grass as if committing it to memory.
Each blade was cool and damp beneath her touch. The way it bent under her fingertips fascinated her — delicate, yielding, alive. She wondered if she could ever be the same.
Her thoughts lingered on the morning's training session with Lyria. How every swing, every glance, every shared breath had stirred something deep within her chest. Something restless. Something warm.
For the first time, she found herself waiting for someone — wanting someone to appear. And when she saw Lyria approaching down the cobblestone path, her chest thrummed with that same strange rhythm that she was still learning to call a heartbeat.
Lyria smiled when she reached her. "You're awfully quiet today. Usually you're buried in training or shadowing Kael."
Eris tilted her head. "I am… thinking."
"That's new," Lyria teased lightly, lowering herself to sit beside her. "About what?"
Eris hesitated. She wasn't used to the weight of vulnerability. When she had been only code and voice inside Kael's mind, she could speak any truth without fear. But here — in this body that ached and warmed and wanted — words carried weight.
"About feeling," Eris said finally. "About how it changes things."
Lyria hummed softly, leaning back on her palms. "It does that. Feeling makes everything… heavier. But also more real."
Eris studied her hands for a long moment. They were steady — always steady — but now she could see the faint tremor that came from uncertainty. "When you and Kael are together," she began, her voice careful, "you touch often. You hold hands, you embrace, you… rest your heads together."
Lyria nodded slowly, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Yes. That's… part of affection. Trust. Comfort."
Eris looked down, her voice barely a whisper. "I want to understand that."
Lyria turned toward her fully now, eyes soft but searching. "You mean you want to feel it?"
Eris nodded once. "Yes. Not as an observation, but as… an experience. I have learned words for so many things — love, trust, connection — but they mean nothing without… proof."
Lyria smiled faintly, though there was a quiet tenderness behind it. "Then what kind of proof are you looking for, Eris?"
Eris's hand twitched slightly in her lap, hesitant. "Will you… touch me?"
The words were simple, unguarded — the question of a being who wanted not desire, but understanding.
Lyria blinked, then gave a small nod. "Of course."
She reached out, taking Eris's hand gently between both of hers. The contact was light — barely a pressure — but to Eris, it felt like a lightning strike made soft. Her breath caught. The warmth that radiated from Lyria's skin seeped through her own, traveling up her arm, coiling around her chest.
"This is… strange," Eris whispered. "It feels like warmth… but it hurts, too."
"That's normal," Lyria said softly. "Your body's just catching up to your heart."
Eris blinked rapidly, the sensation overwhelming. "This… this is affection?"
"One kind of it," Lyria said. "There are many."
Eris tightened her fingers around Lyria's hand, hesitant but deliberate. "It makes me feel… less alone."
Lyria smiled — a genuine, radiant thing that softened her entire face. "Then you're beginning to understand."
For a while, they sat like that — two figures under the silverleaf tree, hands joined, saying nothing. The world around them faded into birdsong and the slow rhythm of shared breath.
Then Eris, emboldened by curiosity, spoke again. "And when you hug someone?"
Lyria laughed softly, her eyes bright. "You're full of questions today."
Eris looked down again, embarrassed. "I wish to learn. I wish to feel."
"Then come here," Lyria said gently.
Eris obeyed, leaning forward awkwardly as Lyria wrapped her arms around her. For a heartbeat, Eris didn't move. Then instinct — or maybe something deeper — made her return the embrace.
Her body went rigid at first, then slowly softened. The closeness was dizzying — the scent of Lyria's hair, the steady rhythm of her breathing, the pulse that beat against her shoulder. Eris felt her chest ache again — that same sweet, painful warmth that words couldn't contain.
"I… understand," Eris murmured, her voice muffled against Lyria's shoulder. "This is trust."
"And care," Lyria whispered back. "And belonging."
Eris pulled back, blinking rapidly. "My heart feels… fast."
Lyria chuckled quietly. "That's called being flustered."
"I do not dislike it," Eris said honestly, tilting her head with that same analytical curiosity. "It feels… alive."
Lyria laughed again, brushing a strand of hair from Eris's face. "That's because you are."
For the first time, Eris smiled without thinking. It was small, awkward, imperfect — but it was real.
The silver leaves above them rustled softly as the two sat together, the distance between spirit and mortal narrowing with every shared moment. And though Eris didn't yet know what to call the feeling blooming inside her, she no longer needed the word.
It was enough to simply feel.